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Authors: Juris Jurjevics

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BOOK: Red Flags
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"The assault," Parks continued, "it'll be precisely timed. May take sixty minutes or several hours. Whether or not they take their objective, at the appointed time the NVA will stop their attack and disperse into the jungle, taking their wounded with them, while mortuary squads drag away the dead. They'll drop off the live casualties at triage points, and by morning the battalions will be miles away, scattering through the jungle, breaking down into ever smaller units ... separated again. They'll disappear."

Checkman's typewriter ratcheted as he tore out a page. Red-faced with excitement, he spoke rapidly. "The confiscated documents and precisely drawn map were the Northwestern Zone Order of Battle," he announced.

They confirmed what we'd guessed: the first mission of the newly formed battalions was to march sixty miles in three nights, heading southeast along three land routes. Mass up as two reinforced battalions and launch a major attack.

"Their objective's Tuy Hoa," Checkman stated. "The air base and Army installation on the coast."

"From which a lot of our air assets originate," Bennett added. "The river running past us leads straight there."

"The Hundred and First Airborne is in Tuy Hoa," Gidding said.

"The NVA are moving southeast," I said, pointing at the map. "Downriver. They'll go past our Special Forces camp at Phu Tuc and on to Tuy Hoa.

"They skipped our small piece of it," Gidding said.

"They can afford to," Joe chimed in. "We're inconsequential."

Checkman stood and resumed his summary. The captured maps, he explained, marked out the routes of approach and the routes of withdrawal, ammunition-distribution points, first-aid stations serving the battlefield, field hospitals farther from the fighting, the sites being prepared in advance for quick burials. He sat down and started typing again.

Bennett exhaled. "Joe, what's your estimate of their total rice supply?"

Parks paused to do a quick calculation on a scrap of paper.

"Their daily requirement is eighteen ounces per man. Figure fourteen hundred men, that means ... fifteen hundred pounds of rice a day, sir."

"Three quarters of a ton," Ruchevsky said. "No wonder they're emptying the villages along the way and replenishing their rice stash at their camps in the mountains." He absently worked the lid of the mahogany box back and forth. "All those mouths to feed. Mrs. Chinh must be getting ready to order her next season's Paris couture."

Major Gidding glared at Ruchevsky.

"Not if we can help it," Bennett said, ignoring his XO's look of disapproval.

Checkman stopped typing just long enough to give us the showstopper. He held up classified sheets by way of demonstration.

"Our SOIs with next week's radio codes. A list of all our frequencies and Pleiku's. Operational area assignments. A schedule of air assets and target clearances in process. MACV intelligence estimates on the NVA presence in the Highlands. Harassment and Interdiction fire coordinates for the Vietnamese artillery to target."

"Good God," Joe said. "So much for their harassment shelling."

Ruchevsky whistled. "Or bothering to clear air strikes through them. A total waste."

Joe Parks leafed through the documents.

"All this is eyes-only. And found on a VC corpse—their top political officer for the province. Son of a bitch."

Ruchevsky could hardly contain himself. "Which means Wolf Man was rushing classified information to the enemy command to encrypt and pass back to their headquarters. The highest-ranking VC in the province carrying information that could only have come from one of two sources."

Bennett looked sallow. "Me and my Vietnamese counterpart, and our immediate staffs."

"Colonel Chinh," Parks said. "Well, unless you've gone over, sir, Colonel Chinh's responsible for supplying the enemy with highly classified information."

Ruchevsky raised his hands and said, "Hallelujah." He was elated, arms thrust in the air. "The wicked witch is dead!" He stopped when he saw Bennett's expression. "What's the matter, Colonel?"

"Think about it, John. Finding this on Wolf Man isn't ironclad evidence it came from Chinh. Think about what Saigon and MACV will say if we—if I—accuse a province chief of something like this." Bennett draped his web belt across his chair and leaned on his desk. "His benefactors won't appreciate our threatening him with exposure, since they're beneficiaries of his corrupt practices."

And he didn't even know about Chinh's major source of extracurricular income, the revenue he didn't share with his betters.

"If they have to investigate him," Bennett said, "they'll investigate me. In the interim, the new province chief will send me packing just to even things out and save face."

I hadn't thought about the backlash against Bennett, the effect on him of a clash with the supreme civil and military authority in the province. It seemed unfair that he should suffer, maybe lose his post, be separated from Roberta. Roberta—the other reason Bennett might be hesitating. Chinh would be vengeful. Revelation of Bennett's adultery would end him as an officer and a gentleman. He looked deflated.

"Whatever else he is," Bennett said, "Chinh's one of them. They'll protect him and their injured national pride."

Ruchevsky toyed nervously with the mahogany presentation box on the side of the desk and lifted out Chinh's gift pistol. "You mean, protect their collective asses since they all partake of the spoils, pack away their gold for the moment when ..."

"We need to tread carefully," Parks said. "Exposing Chinh will make them nervous, which doesn't bring out their best qualities."

Ruchevsky gave an exasperated groan. "Come on, people. We're not talking graft anymore. This is way beyond black-market profiteering. It's not even merely collaborating. This is total fucking treason."

"What's the punishment?" I said.

Ruchevsky glanced up. "For treason in wartime? The firing squad if they like him. The guillotine if they don't. Take your pick."

"Get real, John," Gidding exclaimed. "It's happened on his watch, is all."

"True." Joe Parks agreed with Gidding. "More likely Colonel Chinh will just find himself transferred, pending an investigation that will never get off the ground."

"You being cynical or serious?" I said.

"Both. A couple of months ago we could've turned him in to their anti-corruption committee in Saigon, but it was just disbanded for corruption. If I had a nickel for every sticky-fingered province chief transferred out of harm's way to a better job elsewhere... Chinh could easily walk away free and richer."

I said, "Isn't there any way to bring him down and not catch the recoil?"

"Yeah," Ruchevsky snarled, "kill the son of a bitch in his sleep. His rat wife too." He dropped the Chinese pistol back in its box.

Bennett wiped his face and addressed Ruchevsky. "Chinh may not be able to touch you, John. But by the same token, he's protected too. You can't just put his name on a list."

"A damn shame too," Ruchevsky said.

Parks said, "If we give him time, he'll find a way to weasel out of this, blame someone on his staff, blame us, leaks by VC agents at higher headquarters, his astrologer—whatever. Leaning on him immediately with the suggestion that we have absolute proof—that might just work."

Bennett opened his canteen. "You really think Colonel Chinh would give up his sinecure, just write it off and go quietly?"

Joe Parks sucked on his pipe. "If we acted fast enough, he wouldn't know what we've got on him. He could only imagine the worst. We won't know if it's enough to lever him out of here if we don't put it to him, sir."

Bennett recapped his canteen. "Tell him we want to spare him embarrassment—or worse. Say we're giving him the chance to resign and save face."

"And neck," I said.

Bennett looked to Ruchevsky and Gidding. "Are we agreed?"

Gidding looked undecided. Ruchevsky started to giggle. We all looked at him, puzzled.

"Colonel," he said, "Chinh may assume he's already won your goodwill and cooperation."

"What are you talking about, John?"

Ruchevsky turned the box around to display the big circular colonel's insignia replicated on the inside of the lid.

"Your solid silver eagle? It's platinum."

 

We found Colonel Chinh taking late-morning coffee with his officers at the one decent café off the market square. The colonel was treating his men, looking content and prosperous, a gold Dunhill lighter resting next to his Marlboros on the low table. He rose as Bennett approached, and his officers stood up with him.

"May I speak with you?" Bennett said and stepped back into the street before the man could reply. Colonel Chinh scooped up his cigarettes and lighter, waved Captain Nhu and the others back into their seats. Bennett led him away, but not before I heard him say, "We need to speak privately ... without an interpreter. Do you think we can cope without having someone translate?"

Chinh said, "Yes," and lit a cigarette. Bennett began to speak very softly, calmly laying out our case against him. Chinh's features grew stony as he listened, snapping the lighter open and shut. The ash grew. Finally Chinh spoke, smoke punctuating his words. I couldn't make out what was said, but he was stern and displeased.

"Colonel," Checkman called from the jeep, holding up the handset of the radio. "It's urgent."

Bennett excused himself and hurried toward the vehicle.

"He's not budging," Bennett said to me as he passed. Taking the handset from Checkman, he gave his call sign and listened. He had trouble hearing and covered his other ear to hear better.

I looked back at Chinh, arm across his waist, holding his elbow, and made a quick decision. Chinh might not fear accusations of treason from us, but he'd be mad not to fear his superiors if they found out he was denying them their financial due. The corruption was a system, elaborate and unforgiving, with no real means of contrition and mercy. Anyone who flouted its customary practices would be made an example.

He turned back toward the café. "Colonel Chinh," I called. He stopped and waited for me to catch up. "I have intelligence you should consider before choosing your next steps."

"I speak your colonel already," he said. "I tell I punish when I find."

"This is a separate matter, sir." I stepped closer. "In my position as intelligence officer, I've learned that General Loc may soon be made aware of your wife's cousin's overseas account."

Chinh grinned. An Asian reflex when stressed—or panicked.

"Of course," I went on, "the information might not reach General Loc ... if you were to resign your position as province chief. Which unavoidably leads to a delicate matter." I paused to stoke his anxiety. "Your wife's part in all this. She may have to face charges as well."

"Captain Rider," Bennett called out. "We have to get back."

I turned on my heel and hurried to rejoin Bennett and Checkman. We drove hastily back to MACV.

Bennett said, "Three columns of NVA are nearing the Special Forces camp at Phu Tuc."

As soon as we pulled in, Bennett vaulted out of his seat and jogged to the commo bunker. After conferring by radio with the Green Beret commander at the A camp, he returned to his office. Joe Parks dismissed Mr. Cho for the day, and Bennett gave us all the lowdown on his exchange with Chinh.

"I gave him our ultimatum. He tried not to show it, but he was definitely shaken."

"And?" Ruchevsky said.

"No sale. He seemed confident he could shift it all onto someone else, is how I read it. You know, sacrifice a subordinate to pay for the dishonor and blame the compromised intelligence on him."

Only Major Gidding seemed relieved by the idea that the status quo would be maintained. The rest of us were disheartened. I hoped my threat had carried more weight than Bennett's, but I saw no reason to raise anyone's hopes.

Checkman knocked. "Call for you on the landline, sir. It's Colonel Chinh."

We stepped out to let Bennett take it. He mostly listened for a minute, rang off, and joined us in the bullpen.

"Chinh's had a change of heart," Bennett announced, surprised and smiling. "As soon as the current threat abates, he says he'll submit his resignation."

Joe Parks let out a low whistle. Checkman hooted and high-fived him. Big John beamed and offered everyone a celebratory cigar like a new dad.

"In the meantime"—Bennett raised a hand for attention—"his headquarters in Pleiku is alarmed by reports that the VC are seizing rice caches. They want villagers to surrender it to the provincial governments and deny the enemy food stores."

Sounding amused, Ruchevsky under his breath said, "No more rice sales to the People's Army. Downright tragic. Watch, Chinh will squeeze every last dime out of this damn province on the way out the door, the bastard."

Bennett massaged his neck. "Orders from Two Corps are to seize all the rice stores he can locate. He's issued instructions to his district administrators and troops to compel all villages—Montagnard and Vietnamese—to dig up their emergency storage jars of rice and surrender them to his troops. Three of his ARVN companies will truck into the field and meet up with Vietnamese militia from Phu Thien to sweep the villages and escort the rice back to Cheo Reo. He wants four birds to fly his officers and their American advisers around to supervise, make sure none is held back or diverted to the NVA. We have air assets assigned to us at dawn."

Parks shook his head. "I'm sure VC cadre are already telling villagers the Americans and their Saigon puppets are indifferent to their hunger and seizing the last of their rice supply—that they won't see a grain of it again."

"Probably true too," Bennett said. "It's a propaganda windfall for the Viet Cong. But we can't help that at the moment. At least if we're there, we can try to help the villagers keep enough back that they don't starve."

Bennett moved his helmet to a hook on the wall. "Major Gidding, Lieutenant Lovell, and Sergeant Divivo will each take a flight tomorrow. Captain Rider, you'll accompany me. We pick up our Vietnamese counterparts down at the airstrip at oh-seven-forty."

BOOK: Red Flags
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